


Diminished Distance

by GrannyBoo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Forced Proximity, Lap-sitting, M/M, Post episode 62, Spoilers for 62, forced cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: The little fluttery creature in Fjord’s stomach gives a cry of triumph as Fjord murmurs to Caleb.“You can relax, Caleb. You can’t sit like that the whole trip,” he sighs. Caleb doesn’t seem to pay him any mind at first, then there’s a little twitch to his head, turning back to look at Fjord, gauging. Fjord nods and like a slow-moving wave through Caleb’s body, the muscles in his legs and back loosen and he starts to drift back, like his entire body released a breath it had been holding for the last two hours since they’d left the mines. Warmth spreads from Fjord’s cheeks down to his chest as he feels Caleb lean back against him, his russet hair brushing at his face and his back fitting too-perfectly against Fjord’s chest.-or-Caleb has to sit in Fjord's lap





	Diminished Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaronith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith/gifts).



Fjord was uncomfortable.

No, that’s a lie. He’s uncomfortable with how comfortable he is. There’s something fluttery and strange making itself known in his gut, that reared its ugly little head as he’s forced to play living bench for Caleb on their trip back to Rosohna. A ‘brief’ trip a little ways out of the city proper turned into a day and a half slog through mud, rain, and multiple skirmishes with the various creatures in the wastes. All for some wild goose chase a merchant had sent them on when one of their employees never made it to the mines with the supplies they’d been commissioned to deliver.

He’d been peeved when their Moorbounders had been spooked and bolted in the middle of a fight with some banshees.

He’d been irked when they’d had to trudge through heavy rain for _sixteen hours_ along the path the merchant’s assistant had taken.

He’d been irritated when he found out that, no, the assistant had not come to some untimely death, picked clean by scavengers with naught but an empty cart and bones remaining. They had, instead, gotten lost and decided, instead of risking life and limb by going the wrong way, _hid in a cave for three days, eating their delivery._

Fjord’s patience was razor thin when they’d all realised that there was very little room in the cart, leaving the party, all exhausted and beaten down, only able to walk beside the cart as its single draft horse struggled along, unable to accommodate the weight of more than Yasha, who had nearly gotten her foot bitten off by something that look liked tar with a face and teeth, Fjord’s not sure. But it had gotten to them long after the clerics had run out of juice, much to Jester’s frustration as she tried time and again to heal the bite. To no avail.

By the time they’d reached the mines, Jester received a message, her normally chirpy voice strained and soft as she relays Essik’s words…

Requesting their immediate return to Rosohna to collect their Moorbounders who were attempting to breach the gates of the city.

So they load themselves into the cart, the full crates swapped for the empty ones to return to Rosohna, the shift in weight giving them the chance to ride but still with very little space. While the rest from walking is welcome, the lack of room within the back of the rickety cart leaves them with no option other than to share seats.

Leading to Fjord’s current dilemma.

Caduceus had immediately moved to sit, cross-legged, on the floor, Yasha’s half-bared leg stretched to rest on his thigh as he applies a soothing poultice to help at least reduce the chance of infection and some of the swelling. Nott was perched on the back of the driver’s seat, keeping lookout with her crossbow at the ready, feet swinging and gently tapping the wood behind Caduceus’ head. Beau sat, side-saddle, on Jester’s lap, much to her embarrassment but the pair ended up in something of a comfortable position, Jester’s arms curled around the Monk’s waist while Beau reclines back comfortably and picks at the burrs stuck in the cleric’s sleeves.

Of course, between the remaining two, it made very little sense for Fjord to attempt to finally snuff out their already near-expired wizard by sitting on his lap for the trip back to the city, being the broader and heavier of the two. So, here Fjord sits, a warm (if a little damp) wizard, seated in his lap, Caleb’s back like a steel rod despite the way he almost shakes with the effort of maintaining as little physical contact between them as possible.

The little fluttery creature in Fjord’s stomach gives a cry of triumph as Fjord murmurs to Caleb.

“You can relax, Caleb. You can’t sit like that the whole trip,” he sighs. Caleb doesn’t seem to pay him any mind at first, then there’s a little twitch to his head, turning back to look at Fjord, gauging. Fjord nods and like a slow-moving wave through Caleb’s body, the muscles in his legs and back loosen and he starts to drift back, like his entire body released a breath it had been holding for the last two hours since they’d left the mines. Warmth spreads from Fjord’s cheeks down to his chest as he feels Caleb lean back against him, his russet hair brushing at his face and his back fitting too-perfectly against Fjord’s chest.

A sharp jerk of the cart beneath them almost topples Caleb over, but Fjord’s arms snap around his waist to steady him, and there’s a moment of tension, both in the air between them and their bodies themselves. Caleb relaxes first, resting a hand over Fjord’s forearm, touch featherlight and cautious until Fjord relaxes as well, shifting Caleb so he’s side-saddle like Beau. A little more secure but with the caveat of being able to see the wizard’s face. Or even more damning, letting Caleb see his own; the ruddiness to his cheek, the awkward thin tilt to his lips as he worries his bottom lip. The flush in his cheeks deepens and he allows himself a moment’s reprieve from observation, Caduceus’ sharp eyes and knowing smile forcing him to find the only available hiding place.

Caleb’s shoulder.

He presses his forehead against Caleb’s arm, letting his eyes close. He feels Caleb stiffen again, albeit briefer this time.

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his arm so it rest across Fjord’s shoulders, giving him the crook of his neck to press into instead. Fjord hesitates but internally calls ‘fuck it’. There’ll be awkwardness for a few days but right now, he’s tired, he’s sore, and the inviting smell of Caleb beneath the mud and muck lowers his heartrate and makes that little fluttery creature silent in smug satisfaction.

They stay like that for a fair few hours, Fjord oblivious to the rest of the cart as he dozes in and out of consciousness, startling a little at the brush of Caleb’s fingers at the nape of his neck but he quickly submits to the almost casual touch, short nails scraping along his scalp and making him shiver before his mind drifts into a pleasant haze of warmth and nothingness.

When they finally reach Rosohna, the shrieking yowls of the Moorbounders getting progressively louder and louder, Fjord feels something in his chest clench and it prompts his arms to tighten just that little bit more securely around Caleb’s waist as he wills the moment to remain just a little longer. He feels more than hears the soft huff of something (amusement?) from Caleb, the scarred hands brushing against his forearms and wrists gently, apply just the barest amount of pressure when the cart finally rolls to a stop. Fjord releases him reluctantly, leaning back as the wizard stands and stretches, calling out sharply to Jannick. Caducues and Jester do the same and as the Moorbounders sprint over to greet their masters, the trio climbing out of the cart to corral their mounts. Fjord stands as well, trying to stretch out the tension in his back and legs from remaining seated for so long.

“So. You and Caleb got pretty cozy,” Beau remarks slyly as she climbs out of the cart, helping Yasha down as well.

“Same for you and Jester,” he points out, hoping to see a reflection of his own embarrassed flush in her cheeks but nothing of the sort happens; her grin just widens, showing the curve of her canines.

“I’m comfortable in mine and Jester’s physical relationship. What about you, Fjord?” She says nothing more as she assists Yasha in getting over to the Moorbounders so they can make their way back to the Xhorhaus. Fjord is quick to decline the offer to ride back, citing a need to stretch his legs when really, he didn’t know how he felt about riding on the back of the cats with anyone other than Caleb, or even with Caleb himself. He tries not to react to the unreadable expression on Caleb’s face as the others take off home and he makes his slow trek back to the house.

-

\--

-

Fjord finds that Caleb touches him a little more frequently now, since that trip back from the mines. A hand on his lower back as Caleb passes him in the kitchen, a leg pressed against his as the Nein eat together in the dining room, brief and fleeting at first until their calves rest against each other, knees bumping when they shift in their seats as they trade poorly concealed glances at each other followed by cautious smiles.

When the Nein all pile together in the Happy room, engaging in whatever tasks they’d brought with them, Caleb, instead of taking his customary seat in the armchair in the corner, seats himself on the end of the loveseat Fjord normally sprawls himself across. When Fjord shifts awkwardly on the spot, unsure of how to proceed, Caleb just gives him a soft smile, nodding his head to the free spot beside him.

In an uncharacteristic moment of affection-fed bravery, Fjord splays himself out on the seat, legs bent and hanging over the opposite armrest and resting his head on Caleb’s thigh. There’s a short moment of Fjord’s heart hammering in his chest in rising anxiety, afraid that he’d overstepped the invisible line in their shifting relationship, until Caleb’s free hand starts carding through his short hair, the hand supporting his book stretching across the back of the seat.

The motions of Caleb’s fingers slowly fuzz over Fjord’s mind, letting him drift off with the sounds of the rest of the Nein’s conversations fading into the background and the smell of Caleb surrounding him.

When he wakes again, it is well into the night, the candles all but extinguished, barring one light, suspended above them, as Caleb hovers over him.

“I think it is time to go to bed, yes?” he whispers, looking down at Fjord with a level of fondness that the half-orc’s cheeks warmed at. Fjord slowly rises, just to his knees on the couch beside Caleb, worrying at his lip with his teeth.

“Caleb. Are we…What are we doing?” Fjord asks quietly, fingers curling gently over Caleb’s wrist, just to brush over the soft skin just under his sleeve. Caleb’s cheeks flush and the light flickers as his concentration does the same.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

Fjord’s brow furrows, hand releasing Caleb’s arm to travel up to his jaw, his thumb tracing the sharp jut of his cheekbone. Fjord leans in, cautiously, pausing an inch from Caleb’s lips as he waits for the man to shift away.

“Are you okay with this?” he breathes, the tip of his nose brushing against Caleb’s while the wizard’s body shifts, cheek pressing more firmly into Fjord’s touch.

He doesn’t speak, he just covers the distance between them, connecting their lips in a chaste, gentle kiss. Fjord’s fingers press in a little, adjusting the tilt of their heads as he slides his lips across Caleb’s the edge of his still-growing tusks grazing against the soft flesh of the wizard’s lips, a heat coiling in his stomach as the light gasp that escapes the other man. The room is plunged into darkness, visible even behind closed eyes. Fjord shifts back a little, separating them, to see that Caleb’s light spell had gone entirely out. He feels his lips twitch up in a small smirk.

“Hard time concentratin’?” he teases, making an exaggerated noise of pain when he feels Caleb gently thwap at his thigh with his sleeve.

“You are…” he huffs out a mumbled Zemnian phrase but doesn’t move away. “I think we should talk about this…whatever it is we are doing. So, our intentions are not misconstrued,” he adds, his words hesitant and halting, as though he were afraid of Fjord’s reply.

“I know mine,” Fjord replies, keeping his hand where is rests against Caleb’s cheek, just stroking across the coarse hair of his beard. “I…I really like you, Caleb. I know-…This is new. I’m…I’m new. At this. The whole-“ he gestures in the air, struggling to find the words.

“As am I. Perhaps if we were to express what we’d like out of this…” he makes a similar gesture as Fjord, with a small teasing smile. Fjord returns it, dropping his hand from Caleb’s face to instead intertwine their fingers.

“I’d like something more than physical,” he admits shyly. Caleb takes their joined hands and presses a light kiss to the back of Fjord’s.

“As do I. We could, erhm, we could try dinner? See how we progress.”

Fjord’s smile widens.

“I agree.”


End file.
